Major (The United Federation Marine Corps Book 5) (7 page)

Singh went pale.  “Harmony?  She did that?  Oh, fuck.”

The chief obviously knew Hermonez, and it was affecting him.  But the mission was not completed yet.  Ryck needed to get him back on track.  If anyone knew how hard it was to accept losing men, it was Ryck.

“So, what’s the status here now?  Commander Nuzzi needs to know.  You better get your report up to her ASAP.”

“What?  Oh yeah, you’re right, sir.  I’ll get on that.  Fuck.  I lost six of my men, and Harmony, too.  Shit.”

“Snap out of it, son,” he told the young warrant officer.  “Report back.”

“Right.  And thank you, sir.  You, too, sir,” he added to Bill. “You two may not be Free States, but we owe you one,” he before he got on his comms to report back.

“Did you see me?  I’m a slithering, snake-eating grunt, by God.” Bill said as he and Ryck started back to their team

“That you are, Bill,” Ryck said.

“Holy snake shit!  I can’t believe it.”

The operation, borne out of desperation, had somehow succeeded.  It took sacrifice, but it had been a success.

Holy snake shit indeed.

New Mumbai

Chapter 8

“There have been several requests for your recall,” Mr. Lamonica told him.

“I just did what I thought was right, sir.  The SOG is a vile organization, and I’ve locked horns with them before.  Someone had to step up, and I decided that was me.”

“‘Vile,’ Major?  Not a very diplomatic term,” the chargé d’affaires told him calmly. 

“Well, yes.  Vile is just about right, sir.  That’s what they are.”

“Maybe so, but a good diplomat does not paint himself into a corner.  I’m not here to tell you that the Soldiers of God are good citizens, and perhaps vile is as good a term as any to describe them, but that highlights the issue I have with you.  You are a Marine, and evidently a good one.  But this is a diplomatic mission, not a Marine assault.  You are the proverbial bull in the china shop, coming in with your big feet and smashing everything in sight.”

“With all due respect, sir, I would do it all over again,” Ryck said, a hint of sullenness creeping into his voice.

He’d made more than a few promises to cut down on the arrogance, cut down on the ego that had started to surface in his actions, but this was a little much.  Any Marine would have done what he’d done.  And any Marine would not like getting in trouble for carrying out his training.

“Are you familiar, sir, with the scorpion and the crocodile?” he asked.

The chargé d’affaires looked puzzled, then said, “Why don’t you tell me.”

“It’s an old story, sir, hundreds of years old.  In Africa, a scorpion came to a wide river.  The water was too deep and swift for him, so he went to a crocodile sunning on the bank.

“‘Can you give me a ride across the river?’ he asked the crocodile.

“‘If I do, you will just sting me and kill me,’ the crocodile protested.

“‘Why would I do that?’ the scorpion asked.  ‘If I do that, I will die too, drowned by the river.’

“The crocodile thought about it for a moment, then because it made sense, he agreed to give the scorpion a ride over to the other side.  The scorpion climbed onto the croc, and the two started across.

“Half-way across the river, the scorpion stung the crocodile in the head, poisoning him.

“‘Why did you do that?’ the crocodile asked as the poison took effect and he started to sink under the water.  ‘You’ve killed us both!’

“‘Because I’m a scorpion.  That is what we do,’ said the scorpion before he, too, slipped under the water and drowned.”

A slow smile spread over the chargé d’affaires
’
face, and he said, “So you are the scorpion, Major?”

“Not just me, sir.  Any Marine.  We are trained to fight. You can pretty us up, send us to finishing school in Brussels, have us mix with the high and mighty, but in the end, we’re still Marines.  You have to expect us to act as Marines.

“So if the powers that be want to send me back, so be it.”

Mr. Lamonica nodded, then said, “The ‘powers-that-be’ have left it up to the ambassador.”

“And that is diplomatic talk for it is up to you, sir.”

The smile on his face grew broader, and he didn’t deny Ryck’s statement.

“Sometimes, however, being more direct can have a more advantageous outcome.  This may have been the case here.  And I’ve just been told that our host’s command staff has recommended you for the
Corona Navalis
, and I hardly think it would be civilized of us to remove you before the ceremony, don’t you think?” he asked.

That took Ryck by surprise.  The
Corona Navalis
?  The bronze oak leaves that made up a grubbing crown, an actual crown, on par with the Federation Navy Cross?

“But . . . I . . . I really didn’t do, I mean, it wasn’t that big of a deal.  That’s a pretty high honor, and to give it to me, someone who has recently been locked in combat against them?”

“Politics make strange bedfellows, Major.  Surely you know that by now.  Whether your rash actions deserve this commendation or not, I would have to defer to the military side of our government.  However, my side, the diplomatic side, thinks this is a good idea, as evidently do certain factions within the Free States government.  With that in mind, the ambassador has decided to ignore the calls for your termination from your position and will keep you where you are.  You duties, with concurrence from Captain Franks, will shift somewhat to more of a representative nature, rather than your previous duties.”

Mr. Lamonica had a habit of understating things, even if he tended to be direct and to the point.  Ryck knew that the intelligence gathering had just been lowered in importance and showing the flag had just been elevated.  Ryck knew what it was like to be a figurehead, and he didn’t like it.  But if a Marine was trained to fight, they were also trained to obey orders, and Ryck would salute and march on. 

He hadn’t digested yet what the chargé d’affaires had told him.  Another foreign medal?  What, if he fought someone, he got a medal from them?  First Greater France, and now the Confederation?  Were the trinoculars next?

Ryck didn’t think he was going to enjoy his last year-and-a-half on New Mumbai. But he wanted to finish it, and finish it honorably.  He had a two-week leave coming up, two weeks with Hannah, the twins, and Benjamin back on Prosperity.  He would rather have stayed on Tarawa, but it was time for Benjamin to meet his relatives.  Regardless, he was going to use it to recharge himself before getting back.  And if he was going to be a figurehead, he’d just suck it up and be the best grubbing figurehead he could be.

PROSPERITY

Chapter 9

Ryck grabbed a beer and slipped out the back, dodging several of the Hope of Life kids, along with Noah and his nephew Vyctor, as he made his way back to the gazebo alongside the cornfield fence.  Barret, his sister’s husband, and Ezekial, Hannah’s brother, were already ensconced there, both with their own drinks.

“Give up in there?” Jonah asked.

“Yeah, too much estrogen in there, and way too many kids,” Ryck said, tipping his bottle to clink with those of his two brothers-in-law. 

A screech sounded from the pack of kids weaving crazily around the yard as if in emphasis.  Ryck wanted to rush over to see what had happened, to see if someone was hurt, but the other two men seemed to take it in stride, so he pushed down his anxiety.

Ryck had never seen so many kids since, well, since he was a kid, and so this was his first time as a father, and he tried not to seem over-protective.  Benjamin, the two-year-old and the main reason for the gathering, was a fireball, and Ryck was not too concerned about him, but Noah was a little more reclusive, and Ryck had visions of him being bullied.  Ryck risked a glance up in time to see it was Noah, though, who was giving Jebediah’s Benjamin a push, not the other way around.  Ryck shook his head and turned back to the two men.

“You’re lucky you’ve only got three,” Barret told him.

The Torritites tended to large families, but Barret and Lysa were both Rational Methodists, who tended to fewer children.  That hadn’t stopped them from having five kids, however, with another on the way. 

It was hard to believe that when Lysa had told him, so many years ago, that she was marrying Barret, he hadn’t thought much of the man.  He was 20 years older than Lysa, and he didn’t exude confidence.  But looking at him now, Ryck was happy his sister had a good partner.  Barret had turned out to be a loving, caring husband and a great father.  He’d become quite the businessman, too, but it was his heart that Ryck admired.

“Well, it’s hard to have kids when you’re always away,” Ryck said as another screech, followed by crying this time, reached them.  “But maybe I need to stay away more often if this is what happens.  I think three is enough!”

It was a little stressful, and more than a little noisy, but Ryck felt good with the extended gathering.  He knew Hannah was enjoying the visit.  She and the kids had arrived two full days before Ryck met them there, and he didn’t think she’d stopped talking with her family since.  He would have liked to spend some more alone time together, but Hannah hadn’t seen her mother and sibs for almost three years, since before she was pregnant with Ben.  This was a good trip for her.

And for Ryck, he had to admit.  He and Lysa had been raised on a farm without many kids around.  Even their school had been small.  The concept of a vast extended family was something the two had never had.

Ryck had married into the Hope of Life family, but Lysa hadn’t.  Yet both she and Barret had been welcomed with open arms.  It was only slightly ironic that Lysa spent more time with the Hope of Life clan that Ryck did.

“OK, which one is that?” Ryck asked a red-headed boy of about eight ran by, his left shoe missing.

“Benjamin,” Zeke said.

“Another Benjamin?  How many are there?”

“Benjamins?  It be good solid name.  ‘Son of the right hand,’ not that I need to be tellin’ you that, seein’ as how you got your own Ben.  But that be Bethany’s Benjamin, and over there, that be Jeb’s Ben.  Benjamin Resurrection, I don’t think you met Jeb, but he be in the Navy now, and he be Dinah and Andrew’s boy.  You met Andrew, right?  And then there be . . . ”

Ryck’s attention drifted as Zeke eagerly started his begats.  He just relaxed, soaking in the company of those around him.  He was proud to be a Marine, and he’d have it no other way.  But as a Marine, he felt he was always on stage, that all eyes were on him.  He knew that his accomplishments in the Corps really didn’t matter to those gathered today.  Oh, he knew that Camyle, his niece, was proud that her uncle was the famous Ryck Lysander, that he’d been portrayed in two flicks, even.  And some of the other kids were taken in with a touch of hero worship.  But the adults, especially his mother-in-law, seemed to accept him, to welcome him, simply for being Hannah’s husband. 

A tiny wave of guilt came over him at that thought.  He tried to be a good husband, but being a Marine and being a good husband were not always compatible.  Hannah loved her family, yet she had married Ryck and moved away.  Not only that, but she was effectively a single parent for much of the time.

“I gotta go check on the wife,” he said, getting up and taking his leave as Barret and Zeke started casually arguing on what was the most common name among the Torritite community.  They could have just queried their PAs and gotten the exact response, but the two friends seemed more interested in the thought process rather than the actual answer.

A ball came bounding over that Ryck dutifully kicked back, almost spilling the rest of his beer in the process.  He entered the mudroom that separated the yard from the rest of the house, surprising young Daniel Hope of Life and his new girlfriend Reiko, who, from their startled expressions, had been sneaking a little lip-time.  He acted like he’d seen nothing and entered the house, the smell of fresh-baked bread making him start to salivate.

Hannah was with several of her sisters and sisters-in-law, cutting the onions for the potshop, a braised stew that was a staple of Torritite gatherings.  He came up in back of her, holding one finger over his pursed lips when Vicky, Hannah’s sister-in-law, saw him sneak up.

He slipped his arms around Hannah from behind and kissed her neck.

“I love, you, Mrs. Lysander.  Did you know that?” he asked quietly.

Not so quietly, though, that her sisters didn’t hear as they responded with good-natured catcalls.

“Of course I know that, Mr. Lysander.  How could you not?” she asked, turning her head to give him a peck on the cheek. 

The onions started to make his eyes burn.  He didn’t want to let go of his wife, but for grubbing sakes, how could they all put up with that?

He was saved by a shout of “Daddy, here!”

“Better go see to your son, Ryck,” Hannah told him. 

Ryck gave her once last squeeze and then moved off to where Benjamin, his Benjamin, was proudly waving a toy hammer. When Ryck had left for New Mumbai, Ben had only been five months old, and yesterday had been the first time he seemed to connect Ryck with the concept of “daddy.”  Hearing him call out like that filled Ryck with a feeling of love and pride.

“Gamma give me!” he shouted at Ryck as he used it to hit the couch.  “Bam!”

“Thanks a lot, ‘Gamma,’” he told his mother-in-law who had a smug-looking smile on her face.

“A grandmother’s job be to spoil her grandchildren, Ryck,” she said.  “And since you finally brought him to meet his family, I’ve got a lot of spoilin’ saved up.”

“You like that, little man?” he asked as he knelt next to his son.

“Bam!” Ben said, bopping Ryck on the forehead.

“No, no, we don’t hit people,” Ryck told him.  “It’s not nice.”

“Bam?”

“Not on people.”

Ryck knew that some of his in-laws were looking forward to hear about his latest adventures—at least that is how they considered them.  And he would get to that later.  But for now, he was happy just trying to teach one small, but aggressive, boy a lesson in life.